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Hermione huffed, stepping closer as she stood closer, feeling the warmth of the woman at her side as she held the umbrella over them. "Did today help?" Hermione asked.
"It did," Bellatrix said. "I would appreciate it if we could do it again."
"In a few days," Hermione nodded. "We’ll go and get our things from Diagon Alley soon, and then we can practice our school year spells."
Bellatrix nodded, finding it agreeable.
An owl was waiting for Hermione when they arrived home. Hermione set her bag down, moving to unpack it, when the familiar, snowy white owl waddled over and nipped at her fingers.
"Hello, Hedwig," Hermione murmured, taking the letter. "Here, I always save some treats for you," she said, reaching into her desk drawer and pulling out the owl treats. Hedwig hooted, eating up the treats from her hand quickly before she moved to sit atop her bookshelf, apparently inclined to sleep after the journey.
Harry had written a brief letter, asking if she would be coming to "their usual holiday house’ and mentioning that "an old friend’ had arranged to visit him––which he was a bit baffled by the idea of them meeting the Dursley’s. Hermione could agree with that, but she hoped Dumbledore would see the conditions Harry was in and realise his mistake.
Taking out her parchment, Hermione drafted a response advising that she was unfortunately busy this summer but would try to make time to visit them before September 1, perhaps for Harry’s upcoming Birthday, and then wished him well with his "old friend’.
Hermione folded up the letter, placing it into an envelope before she sealed it and set it on the table with some treats. Hedwig was clever enough to know that it was for Harry and would likely fly off as soon as she awoke.
Hermione grabbed some water downstairs and set it back in her room on the desk.
"Is it your owl?" Bellatrix asked, surprising her.
"What? Oh, no, she belongs to a friend of mine."
"She’s beautiful," Bellatrix admired,
watching as she slept atop the bookshelf. Hermione wondered towards the other witch’s fascination before she drew her eyes away. "Was there anything you wanted to do?"
"I might read," Bellatrix said. "Can I use her to write a letter?"
"Oh, ah, probably not," Hermione said. "She tends only to follow Harry’s advice. But I can take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow to write a letter, if you prefer?" Hermione offered.
Bellatrix nodded, "That would be good," she said, forgetting her pleases and thank yous. It shouldn’t bother Hermione as much as it did—Ron and Harry seemed to forget just as often—but for some reason, it annoyed her more that Bellatrix didn’t. Swallowing back her words, Hermione returned to studying the books she’d borrowed once Bellatrix left the room.
She had learned a few charms and spells to help her with her project. Since the Department of Mysteries, she had begun writing a list of things she felt that she would need if they went to war. From her studies of the previous Wizarding War and that of the one with Grindelwald, she knew that things weren’t as straightforward as just battles after battles. She would need spells to help her hold vast supplies, as well as defensive magic and charms like the keep-away/look-away.
The books she’d borrowed showed her how to ward as well, and from Harry’s time in the Triwizard cup, Hermione had learnt a few navigation spells to help him. Now, all she needed was to find out what else she might require, she supposed. And that was where she was wracking her brain, trying to find an answer. She knew there was more she needed to learn, but it wasn’t as easy as just lugging around a thousand and one books.
When Hermione’s parents came home, Hermione greeted them, agreeing to help her father cook dinner as it was his night to cook.
Again, she and Bellatrix made the salad, set the table, and over dinner, Hermione discussed the British Museum, talking about it enthusiastically.
"Bella?" Hermione’s mother prompted, "How did you handle Hermione’s enthusiasm?"
Bellatrix looked up. "Hermione was...informative."
To that, Jean smiled. "She is. I remember when she was little, we took her to the museum, and she had memorised where everything was that she wanted to see from her encyclopaedia. Always hungry for more information."
Hermione flushed at the comment. She only briefly remembered the incident her mother spoke of. At the time, there had been an Egyptian exhibition back when Hermione dreamed of becoming an archeologist, discovering and learning about new civilisations. Still, her desire for that quickly became muted once she became a witch.
"Did you enjoy the exhibition, though?" Hermione’s father prompted Bellatrix.
"It was interesting," Bellatrix advised.
"Was there anything you liked particularly about the museum?" He tried again in an attempt to make conversation. Over the last few nights, her parents would make around three attempts before leaving Bella alone. Whilst they welcomed her engagement, Hermione believed they knew when to stop pushing for it.
"They had a small section associated with witchcraft and the Hekate cult that presided there," Bellatrix said. "I would have liked it to be larger, but I believe that the witches may have hidden most of the information in alignment with the secrecy act. It’s a shame because Witches and Wizards don’t tend to have museums to the extent of muggles."
Hermione’s heart fluttered at that. It was the best compliment of muggles she could hope for from the witch.
"That’s a shame," Jean said. "It would be fascinating to see antiquities from the Witching World. Hermione, didn’t you used to have a book? A History of Witchcraft?"
"History of Magic," Hermione said. "It holds much of the written information, but it doesn’t discuss items. I’ve read briefly, from some accounts, that witches believe magic was different back in the ancient world. Wands came about around 400 BC. Some African countries still preside with using wandless magic as they have a way of teaching it that makes the use of a wand nearly useless. Still, even they speak of how magic used to
different," Hermione said, stopping to take a breath.
Her parents looked at her stunned, and even Bellatrix had a raised expression before she smiled, shaking her head. "It’s dead. Ancient magic," Bellatrix said.
"How do you know?" Hermione asked. "We still have stone henge. We
that used to be a beacon of sorts. There––"
"It’s dead," Bellatrix said again, firmer. "I know it as I know my own magic. Whatever that old, ancient way was, it died."
"You talk about it as though it were living."
Bellatrix went quiet, and Hermione looked to her parents, both of whom avoided eye contact. Neither of them could contribute much to the conversation. They tried to understand magic and learn what they could, but it went against the science they knew, which shook them to the core. It was easier if they just nodded along rather than engaged.
Hermione could understand that.
Still, Bellatrix’s words held over her. The concept that magic was a tangible thing and that it was
was a strange concept on its own. Everything she read viewed magic as more of a verb than a noun. Thinks were
. They were transfigured, charmed, jinxed, cursed or hex. The spells that did it were treated as nouns, but the magic itself wasn’t necessarily a tangible thing.
She frowned into her dinner, picking at it as the concept seemed to itch something in her thoughts, like a bug burrowing into the dirt.
"Hermione?" Her mother asked, summoning her thoughts.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked if your school results have arrived yet?"
"Oh, no, They usually come around late July," she said. Sometimes later, after Harry’s birthday. To that, she felt a strange feeling tug in her chest. She would have to find a present for him. And look at Christmas presents too, while she was at it.
It wasn’t long before her OWLs did arrive. Leading up to it, the anxiety and nervousness tugged in her chest. Hermione’s dreams switched between the Department of Mysteries and McGonagall informing her that she had failed and would have to repeat a year. When the school owl arrived, at last, Hermione paced the kitchen, acting as if acid was secretly stuffed in the parchment.
"Why are you so worried?" Bellatrix asked. "You’re competent at magic."
at exams. I always have been."
"And what happens if you fail?"
Hermione nearly fainted. "I will have to speak to my Head of House. But she wouldn’t answer me correctly. Everyone is
confident I’ve passed, but––" she looked at the other witch. Bellatrix had grabbed the letter opening it. "What have you done? Oh––"
?" Hermione screeched, snatching the parchment out of her hand. Her eyes quickly ran over the document, eyes darting swiftly and then slowly to drink in what she read.
HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER HAS ACHIEVED:
ANCIENT RUNES: O
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: O
DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ART: E
HISTORY OF MAGIC: O
TRANSFIGURATION: O
Hermione balked at the
, feeling the world tremble. Defence Against the Dark Arts...
. Harry must have reached the O, she realised. Likely shifting the curve. He was good at it, and she could barely stand on her two feet and remember two curses.
"Are you disappointed?"
"No," Hermione said, before sighing, "Yes. If I had the DADA as an O, then...."
"Then you’d be perfect," Bellatrix asked, arching a brow at her. "Perhaps you need more practice," the witch teased, looking over the results. "Overall, you should be impressed. I imagine nine is still a high achievement."
"It is," Hermione said. "Most people only take eight classes, but I have an exception, so I’m ahead of the curve. It’s just...."
"That you wanted ten?"
Hermione nodded. "Anyway, it’s fine. I should be happy. Mum and Dad will be happy when they get back from the clinic."
"Of course, but...we have NEWTs this year. Why settle for
perfect when you could practice with me? Come on. You promised we would do it again, and I doubt you did poorly on the written exam."
"No," Hermione said. "Defence had always been my weakest class."
"Then let’s do it. Let’s go."
Hermione looked at the time. It was only mid-morning. "Okay, sure, let’s do it," she said.
They caught the bus to Central Station and the country link train out to the same spot, eating sandwiches as they watched the landscape pass. Bellatrix eagerly discussed footwork, from how to stand and hold a wand. It came to her as easy as breathing, just as it did for Harry.
Though, Hermione shouldn’t be surprised. She was You-Know-Who’s most loyal. She’d probably learnt how to duel from the Dark Lord himself.
"If you’re not going to listen, you’re going to fall on your arse today," Bellatrix said, sitting back in her chair as she folded her arms. "I look forward to beating you."
Hermione frowned. "I’m listening," she assured.
"You’re worrying about your results again?"
Hermione nodded, avoiding Bellatrix’s eyes. "I don’t know how much Dumbledore told you, but there’s a war coming. Of all the subjects, DADA is probably the
relevant. Exceeds is fine, but fine can mean the difference between life and death. In the Department, I nearly––" She stopped there, realising who she was talking to.
The very person who was the cause of her nightmares was sitting before her.
"You nearly died?"
"We all did," Hermione said, huddling in on herself.
Bellatrix paused for a moment before she asked, "Was I the cause of that?"
"You were different," Hermione said. "That version of you was...
. You-Know-Who doesn’t have friends, only subjects. Any mistakes must have..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "It doesn’t matter."
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed before she looked out the window, a quiet holding between them once more.
Hermione shifted in her seat, looking out the window to follow the stops. She hadn’t meant to hurt Bellatrx’s feelings by bringing up the past. There were days she wondered if she danced too close, too dangerously and tapered with whatever guard might be before the memory. But if something as simple as a misspoken sentence could suddenly trigger the mad sadist, she was certain Dumbledore wouldn’t have left Bellatrix in her trust.
"Do I scare you?" Bellatrix asked.
"No," Hermione said, sincere as she looked at the woman. "You are
, but you don’t terrify me."
Bellatrix nodded. "Why did you protect me in the Department?"
To that, Hermione didn’t know. She paused, considering the question before she shrugged. "You needed help," she offered. It was the only explanation she had, yet it seemed too small. In truth, she didn’t want to think about it.
Bellatrix didn’t push, and Hermione didn’t worry herself about it. When the station arrived, they got off and followed the familiar path out to the forest. There, they put up the keep-away/look-away charms and got to work.
Bellatrix was unrelenting. Hermione had hidden behind a tree, catching her breath before darting out, casting stupefy back. Over and over, she tried to dodge, deflect and disarm, only to be stunned or thrown onto her back. When one particular spell knocked her into a tree, Bellatrix stopped, carefully walking over. "That looked painful."
"It was," Hermione winced, sitting up. She moved, dizzy, before falling back down. "Ow," she said.
"Don’t move," Bellatrix said, coming to squat before her. "Did you bring dittany?"
"Yeah, it’s in my bag," Hermione said.

Hermione huffed, stepping closer as she stood closer, feeling the warmth of the woman at her side as she held the umbrella over them. "Did today help?" Hermione asked.

"It did," Bellatrix said. "I would appreciate it if we could do it again."

"In a few days," Hermione nodded. "We’ll go and get our things from Diagon Alley soon, and then we can practice our school year spells."

Bellatrix nodded, finding it agreeable.

An owl was waiting for Hermione when they arrived home. Hermione set her bag down, moving to unpack it, when the familiar, snowy white owl waddled over and nipped at her fingers.

"Hello, Hedwig," Hermione murmured, taking the letter. "Here, I always save some treats for you," she said, reaching into her desk drawer and pulling out the owl treats. Hedwig hooted, eating up the treats from her hand quickly before she moved to sit atop her bookshelf, apparently inclined to sleep after the journey.

Harry had written a brief letter, asking if she would be coming to "their usual holiday house’ and mentioning that "an old friend’ had arranged to visit him––which he was a bit baffled by the idea of them meeting the Dursley’s. Hermione could agree with that, but she hoped Dumbledore would see the conditions Harry was in and realise his mistake.

Taking out her parchment, Hermione drafted a response advising that she was unfortunately busy this summer but would try to make time to visit them before September 1, perhaps for Harry’s upcoming Birthday, and then wished him well with his "old friend’.

Hermione folded up the letter, placing it into an envelope before she sealed it and set it on the table with some treats. Hedwig was clever enough to know that it was for Harry and would likely fly off as soon as she awoke.

Hermione grabbed some water downstairs and set it back in her room on the desk.

"Is it your owl?" Bellatrix asked, surprising her.

"What? Oh, no, she belongs to a friend of mine."

"She’s beautiful," Bellatrix admired,

watching as she slept atop the bookshelf. Hermione wondered towards the other witch’s fascination before she drew her eyes away. "Was there anything you wanted to do?"

"I might read," Bellatrix said. "Can I use her to write a letter?"

"Oh, ah, probably not," Hermione said. "She tends only to follow Harry’s advice. But I can take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow to write a letter, if you prefer?" Hermione offered.

Bellatrix nodded, "That would be good," she said, forgetting her pleases and thank yous. It shouldn’t bother Hermione as much as it did—Ron and Harry seemed to forget just as often—but for some reason, it annoyed her more that Bellatrix didn’t. Swallowing back her words, Hermione returned to studying the books she’d borrowed once Bellatrix left the room.

She had learned a few charms and spells to help her with her project. Since the Department of Mysteries, she had begun writing a list of things she felt that she would need if they went to war. From her studies of the previous Wizarding War and that of the one with Grindelwald, she knew that things weren’t as straightforward as just battles after battles. She would need spells to help her hold vast supplies, as well as defensive magic and charms like the keep-away/look-away.

The books she’d borrowed showed her how to ward as well, and from Harry’s time in the Triwizard cup, Hermione had learnt a few navigation spells to help him. Now, all she needed was to find out what else she might require, she supposed. And that was where she was wracking her brain, trying to find an answer. She knew there was more she needed to learn, but it wasn’t as easy as just lugging around a thousand and one books.

When Hermione’s parents came home, Hermione greeted them, agreeing to help her father cook dinner as it was his night to cook.

Again, she and Bellatrix made the salad, set the table, and over dinner, Hermione discussed the British Museum, talking about it enthusiastically.

"Bella?" Hermione’s mother prompted, "How did you handle Hermione’s enthusiasm?"

Bellatrix looked up. "Hermione was...informative."

To that, Jean smiled. "She is. I remember when she was little, we took her to the museum, and she had memorised where everything was that she wanted to see from her encyclopaedia. Always hungry for more information."

Hermione flushed at the comment. She only briefly remembered the incident her mother spoke of. At the time, there had been an Egyptian exhibition back when Hermione dreamed of becoming an archeologist, discovering and learning about new civilisations. Still, her desire for that quickly became muted once she became a witch.

"Did you enjoy the exhibition, though?" Hermione’s father prompted Bellatrix.

"It was interesting," Bellatrix advised.

"Was there anything you liked particularly about the museum?" He tried again in an attempt to make conversation. Over the last few nights, her parents would make around three attempts before leaving Bella alone. Whilst they welcomed her engagement, Hermione believed they knew when to stop pushing for it.

"They had a small section associated with witchcraft and the Hekate cult that presided there," Bellatrix said. "I would have liked it to be larger, but I believe that the witches may have hidden most of the information in alignment with the secrecy act. It’s a shame because Witches and Wizards don’t tend to have museums to the extent of muggles."

Hermione’s heart fluttered at that. It was the best compliment of muggles she could hope for from the witch.

"That’s a shame," Jean said. "It would be fascinating to see antiquities from the Witching World. Hermione, didn’t you used to have a book? A History of Witchcraft?"

"History of Magic," Hermione said. "It holds much of the written information, but it doesn’t discuss items. I’ve read briefly, from some accounts, that witches believe magic was different back in the ancient world. Wands came about around 400 BC. Some African countries still preside with using wandless magic as they have a way of teaching it that makes the use of a wand nearly useless. Still, even they speak of how magic used to

different," Hermione said, stopping to take a breath.

Her parents looked at her stunned, and even Bellatrix had a raised expression before she smiled, shaking her head. "It’s dead. Ancient magic," Bellatrix said.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked. "We still have stone henge. We

that used to be a beacon of sorts. There––"

"It’s dead," Bellatrix said again, firmer. "I know it as I know my own magic. Whatever that old, ancient way was, it died."

"You talk about it as though it were living."

Bellatrix went quiet, and Hermione looked to her parents, both of whom avoided eye contact. Neither of them could contribute much to the conversation. They tried to understand magic and learn what they could, but it went against the science they knew, which shook them to the core. It was easier if they just nodded along rather than engaged.

Hermione could understand that.

Still, Bellatrix’s words held over her. The concept that magic was a tangible thing and that it was

was a strange concept on its own. Everything she read viewed magic as more of a verb than a noun. Thinks were

. They were transfigured, charmed, jinxed, cursed or hex. The spells that did it were treated as nouns, but the magic itself wasn’t necessarily a tangible thing.

She frowned into her dinner, picking at it as the concept seemed to itch something in her thoughts, like a bug burrowing into the dirt.

"Hermione?" Her mother asked, summoning her thoughts.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if your school results have arrived yet?"

"Oh, no, They usually come around late July," she said. Sometimes later, after Harry’s birthday. To that, she felt a strange feeling tug in her chest. She would have to find a present for him. And look at Christmas presents too, while she was at it.

It wasn’t long before her OWLs did arrive. Leading up to it, the anxiety and nervousness tugged in her chest. Hermione’s dreams switched between the Department of Mysteries and McGonagall informing her that she had failed and would have to repeat a year. When the school owl arrived, at last, Hermione paced the kitchen, acting as if acid was secretly stuffed in the parchment.

"Why are you so worried?" Bellatrix asked. "You’re competent at magic."

at exams. I always have been."

"And what happens if you fail?"

Hermione nearly fainted. "I will have to speak to my Head of House. But she wouldn’t answer me correctly. Everyone is

confident I’ve passed, but––" she looked at the other witch. Bellatrix had grabbed the letter opening it. "What have you done? Oh––"

?" Hermione screeched, snatching the parchment out of her hand. Her eyes quickly ran over the document, eyes darting swiftly and then slowly to drink in what she read.

HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER HAS ACHIEVED:

ANCIENT RUNES: O

CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES: O

DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ART: E

HISTORY OF MAGIC: O

TRANSFIGURATION: O

Hermione balked at the

, feeling the world tremble. Defence Against the Dark Arts...

. Harry must have reached the O, she realised. Likely shifting the curve. He was good at it, and she could barely stand on her two feet and remember two curses.

"Are you disappointed?"

"No," Hermione said, before sighing, "Yes. If I had the DADA as an O, then...."

"Then you’d be perfect," Bellatrix asked, arching a brow at her. "Perhaps you need more practice," the witch teased, looking over the results. "Overall, you should be impressed. I imagine nine is still a high achievement."

"It is," Hermione said. "Most people only take eight classes, but I have an exception, so I’m ahead of the curve. It’s just...."

"That you wanted ten?"

Hermione nodded. "Anyway, it’s fine. I should be happy. Mum and Dad will be happy when they get back from the clinic."

"Of course, but...we have NEWTs this year. Why settle for

perfect when you could practice with me? Come on. You promised we would do it again, and I doubt you did poorly on the written exam."

"No," Hermione said. "Defence had always been my weakest class."

"Then let’s do it. Let’s go."

Hermione looked at the time. It was only mid-morning. "Okay, sure, let’s do it," she said.

They caught the bus to Central Station and the country link train out to the same spot, eating sandwiches as they watched the landscape pass. Bellatrix eagerly discussed footwork, from how to stand and hold a wand. It came to her as easy as breathing, just as it did for Harry.

Though, Hermione shouldn’t be surprised. She was You-Know-Who’s most loyal. She’d probably learnt how to duel from the Dark Lord himself.

"If you’re not going to listen, you’re going to fall on your arse today," Bellatrix said, sitting back in her chair as she folded her arms. "I look forward to beating you."

Hermione frowned. "I’m listening," she assured.

"You’re worrying about your results again?"

Hermione nodded, avoiding Bellatrix’s eyes. "I don’t know how much Dumbledore told you, but there’s a war coming. Of all the subjects, DADA is probably the

relevant. Exceeds is fine, but fine can mean the difference between life and death. In the Department, I nearly––" She stopped there, realising who she was talking to.

The very person who was the cause of her nightmares was sitting before her.

"You nearly died?"

"We all did," Hermione said, huddling in on herself.

Bellatrix paused for a moment before she asked, "Was I the cause of that?"

"You were different," Hermione said. "That version of you was...

. You-Know-Who doesn’t have friends, only subjects. Any mistakes must have..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "It doesn’t matter."

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed before she looked out the window, a quiet holding between them once more.

Hermione shifted in her seat, looking out the window to follow the stops. She hadn’t meant to hurt Bellatrx’s feelings by bringing up the past. There were days she wondered if she danced too close, too dangerously and tapered with whatever guard might be before the memory. But if something as simple as a misspoken sentence could suddenly trigger the mad sadist, she was certain Dumbledore wouldn’t have left Bellatrix in her trust.

"Do I scare you?" Bellatrix asked.

"No," Hermione said, sincere as she looked at the woman. "You are

, but you don’t terrify me."

Bellatrix nodded. "Why did you protect me in the Department?"

To that, Hermione didn’t know. She paused, considering the question before she shrugged. "You needed help," she offered. It was the only explanation she had, yet it seemed too small. In truth, she didn’t want to think about it.

Bellatrix didn’t push, and Hermione didn’t worry herself about it. When the station arrived, they got off and followed the familiar path out to the forest. There, they put up the keep-away/look-away charms and got to work.

Bellatrix was unrelenting. Hermione had hidden behind a tree, catching her breath before darting out, casting stupefy back. Over and over, she tried to dodge, deflect and disarm, only to be stunned or thrown onto her back. When one particular spell knocked her into a tree, Bellatrix stopped, carefully walking over. "That looked painful."

"It was," Hermione winced, sitting up. She moved, dizzy, before falling back down. "Ow," she said.

"Don’t move," Bellatrix said, coming to squat before her. "Did you bring dittany?"

"Yeah, it’s in my bag," Hermione said.